at it is not
even cracked. And now, sir,--what clothes do you propose to wear
this morning?"

"And pray, why should you be so confident of regarding
the--er--condition of my heart?"

"Because, sir,--speaking as your father's old servant, Master George, I
make bold to say that I don't believe that you have ever been in love,
or even know what love is, Master George, sir."

Bellew picked up the salt-spoon, balanced it very carefully upon his
finger, and put it down again.

"Nevertheless," said he, shaking his head, "I can see for myself but the
dreary perspective of a hopeless future, Baxter, blasted by the Haunting
Spectre of the Might Have Been;--I'll trouble you to push the cigarettes
a little nearer."

"And now, sir," said Baxter, as he rose to strike, and apply the
necessary match, "what suit will you wear to-day?"

"Something in tweeds."

"Tweeds, sir! surely you forget your appointment with the Lady Cecily
Prynne, and her party? Lord Mountclair had me on the telephone,
last night--"

"Also a good, heavy walking-stick, Baxter, and a knap-sack."

"A knap-sack, sir?"

"I shall set out on a walking tour--in an hour's time."

"Certainly, sir,--where to, sir?"

"I haven't the least idea, Baxter, but I'm going--in an hour. On the
whole, of the four courses you describe for one whose life is blighted,
whose heart,--I say whose heart, Baxter, is broken,--utterly smashed,
and--er--shivered beyond repair, I prefer to disappear--in an
hour, Baxter."

"Shall you drive the touring car, sir, or the new racer?"

"I shall walk, Baxter, alone,--in an hour."

CHAPTER III

_Which concerns itself with a hay-cart, and a belligerent Waggoner_

It was upon a certain August morning that George Bellew shook the dust
of London from his feet, and, leaving Chance, or Destiny to direct him,
followed a hap-hazard course, careless alike of how, or when, or where;
sighing as often, and as heavily as he considered his heart-broken
condition required,--which was very often, and very heavily,--yet
heeding, for all that, the glory of the sun, and the stir and bustle of
the streets about him.

Thus it was that, being careless of his ultimate destination, Fortune
condescended to take him under her wing, (if she has one), and guided
his steps across the river, into the lovely land of Kent,--that county
of gentle hills, and broad, pleasant valleys, of winding streams and
shady woods, of rich meadows and smiling pastures, of gr